


a primer for small weird loves

by ojeriza



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ojeriza/pseuds/ojeriza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You do this, you do. You take the things you love and tear them apart." — Richard Siken</p><p>A never-ending collection of Thorloki ficlets (that ended up ending).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. flesh covers the bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t leave,” he murmurs.  
> “I’m staying,” he says.
> 
> They’ve always looked at each other through a translucent curtain. They never reach the bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Commoventi](http://commoventi.tumblr.com/post/59576964904) is the one at fault for this.

The first time he sees Loki, really sees Loki and his scars and wounds, Thor is shivering from the morning cold while Loki exhales cigarette smoke through his nose. The frigidity seems to seep into his bones and freeze him in place. The frozen surface of a lake.

He wants to kiss the bruises, kiss thin wrists and rosy lips, wants to bring Loki to his arms and never let him go. _You’re mine now_ _._ He wants to stroke his dark hair, curl his fingers around the back of his neck and guide Loki’s mouth to his.

Surrounded by the fog, the naked tree branches and the smoke curling out of his mouth, Loki looks like a spiritual being, a deity. Pale, unreachable, incorporeal. It’s glorious. It’s watching the pouring rain, the liquid overflow and spill, the waterfall. Irrepressible. Thor wants to extend his arm, reach for Loki and make him see what he sees.

“There is a void inside me nothing will fill.”

The words get stuck in his throat, a dry, unforgiving lump. He wants to say, “I can fill it,” he wants to assure him it will go. _One day, you will look back and see._

Loki exhales more pearl-white smoke and tosses the cigarette to the earth. Bottle-green eyes look disappointed, resigned. In the back of his mind, he thinks, _It suits him_.

 

* * *

 

The smoke sits densely inside him. He relishes the smell, the taste it leaves and the burn in his throat. Loki wants his death to come as swiftly as he can manage. He wants to embrace the only gift life would ever allow him to have, his foreordained cessation. Wants to close his eyes and be taken away, cradled in Mors’ arms. Iku’s. Yama’s. Wants to be welcomed by Morpheus and never wake up.

He looks at his brother and it hurts, kills him, crushes his entire being as if it were fruit pulp. Thor emphasizes the filth and perverseness of his soul. So golden and pure, kind-hearted. He’s scared of ever defiling the goodness of his core.

Loki can’t afford to have Thor looking at him and seeing him as whom he truly is. A wretched man, unworthy of his love. He cannot begin to imagine his life without his full of light brother. His beautiful, perfect brother. The stranded rock that secures him when the sea is furious and raging.

He skims the tip of his fingers across his wounds, rough and abnormal, and wonders if they will ever heal, or disappear. If he will ever be able to forget them, despite his insistence in making them blossom. He has darkness living inside him and Loki welcomes it.

 

* * *

 

His voice is feeble and frail, green eyes barely open. “I can’t sleep.”

Thor is sitting at the the foot of the bed, near his head. It was a habit Loki had never grown out of, sleeping with his feet by the headboard.

“I should go to my room.”

He searches for Thor’s hand and bring the comforting warmth to his face. “The sun hurts my eyes.”

He’s been having painful migraines since he was a boy. When they were children, their father thought Loki had a brain tumor. He took him to the hospital, had him scanned and examined, but all of the results came out perfectly normal.

Thor’s hand covers his eyes. The weight is a soothing comfort that calms Loki.

“Come back to bed.”

“Loki.”

He tips his head up just a bit, enough to kiss the open palm. Eyes still closed. Warm fingers brush Loki’s cheek in an endearment.

“Brother,” he mutters and knows he’s won.

He hears a soft sigh and feels the mattress deepen. Thor is by his side the next moment, blocking the light from blinding him and worsening his migraine. He’s a heavy, enclosing warmth that makes Loki feel as if he’s swooning. Drowning and losing himself.

He raises his hand and touches Thor’s cheek, fingers slithering down to his jaw and pulse. He feels life and breathes in his smell. Fresh and alive like the sea.

“Don’t leave,” he murmurs.

 

* * *

 

He can see the delicate, small blood vessels under Loki’s eyelids and cheeks, near his dimples, and the blue and green veins under the skin of his wrists, blossoming alongside his forearm. He looks utterly vulnerable, and Thor takes delight in this.

He feels depraved by doing so.

It leaves him with a sense of filthiness and disgust deep in his guts. Thor shouldn’t look at his brother that way, shouldn’t revel in Loki’s tears and weaknesses. Shouldn’t want to make him beg and writhe.

“I’m staying,” he says.

He feels Loki’s shaky breath against his knuckles, eyes fluttering under thin skin, creased brows. He wonders how much pain Loki is in, has always been in, if it’s so unbearable that he does the unthinkable to make it stop.

He wonders why Loki would do most of the things he does.

“Good,” he mutters, nestling closer to Thor’s body.

“Sleep,” he says and kisses his forehead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked so much the dynamics I created in this ficlet, that I decided to write a proper fic. This was previously posted on my [tumblr](http://sisyphuus.tumblr.com/), and now I'm working on something longer. Right now I have 12k words and it's such a pain. It's become a monster!
> 
> Oh! And the name is from a poem by Richard Siken, which is amazing, go read it, but the name of this chapter is from Alone with Anybody, by Charles Bukowski. But anyway, hope you liked it, and any feedback is appreciated.


	2. winged seraphs of heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He can’t help but expect Loki to go and not return. He keeps thinking he will someday."
> 
> Thor indulges himself with his brother’s body.

First, he touches his cheekbones.

Feels the cool skin against his knuckles, the softness, seeks the fragile blood vessels with his fingertips, watches the pale skin blush a faint pink under his ministrations.

Then, he traces the contour of thin lips.

Soft. Warm. Chapped. He slides the pads of his digits against them, opens Loki’s rosy mouth, spreads the wetness over dainty lips. Thor likes the way they feel, the way they hold promises and love.

Last, he looks up at green eyes. Always vivid and shiny, holding words and emotions, heavens and hells, worlds behind eyelids no one will never know.

Thor is fond of the purplish shadows under his eyes, no matter how much Loki sleeps, they’ll always be there, giving him a sickly, tired appearance that it’s just Loki’s; it makes him look innocent and younger, like a sleepy child.

He doesn’t tire of staring at his eyes, he can’t imagine himself ever growing wearied of them. How sweet they look up close, how teary they become when Loki is only half-awaken. There’s nothing he isn’t fond of.

His protruding bones, the unhealthy paleness, the sharp teeth, the scar above his upper lip, the dimple he has on only one cheek. The knobby fingers, the long, skinny legs, the moles on his arms and back, his voice hoarse in the mornings, his mood, the way he speaks.

He looks down at thin lips once more.

“Can I kiss you again?”

He still feels the need to ask, to make sure he still wants this. He can’t help but expect Loki to go and not return. He keeps thinking he will someday.

He knows the way he stares at his brother. He still doesn’t believe Loki wants him, that Loki accepts his love and allows Thor to touch him the way he has always wanted to. He stares at him with wonder and worship written in his eyes. Thinks, _When will he tire? Lose interest?_

He would sacrifice anything, but his sight. Or the ability to touch. He wouldn’t survive without either with which he could still remain near his brother, could feel him, could see him. Could have him.

He stares at Loki and fears. Feels uneasy, helpless, mundane.

But Loki smiles, a slow curve of his mouth revealing bright, sharp teeth. Hooded eyes closing to slits.

“Kiss me,” he says.

And Thor does. He touches soft lips with his own, skims his tongue over them, tasting, lingering. He sucks Loki’s bottom lip and scrapes his teeth across the moist flesh, worrying it until it’s swollen. His brother’s breathing is warm against his cheeks, warm and uneven.

Loki sucks on his tongue and Thor feels light-headed. In the back of his mind, he knows that if he died, he would die gladly. He cups the back of Loki’s neck and deepens the kiss. It’s tender and slow, refreshing and soothing. It calms his nerves, his thoughts, makes him forget the worries that won’t leave him.

They breathe into each other’s lungs and sigh, swallowing breathy sounds that leave both their mouths. It feels intimate, as if part of his brother is slowly making its way deep into his being, filling him inside out, an emptiness he’d never known how to fulfill.

Until Loki.

Until he tasted his brother’s skin. Lips. Sucked his fingers and felt their texture on his tongue, licked the inside of his mouth, intimate places, hidden corners, roamed his hands across the expanse of his body, heard him moan, saw him climax. Until he kissed him. Until he knew how his brother truly looked like, his secrets, his veiled beauty, his core.

They break apart and stare into each other’s eyes. There’s nothing to say, nothing that Thor hasn’t put into words, nothing that Loki hasn’t demonstrated indirectly. Nothing that their bodies haven’t sung in unison. He cups Loki’s cheeks and grins at the glimpse of his brother’s coy smile.

“Let’s sleep, you oath.”

“Aye,” he says, but neither of them close their eyes. They keep staring.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name is from the poem Annabel Lee, by Allan Poe. It's a really nice poem, and, despite Thor and Loki not being the winged seraphs, obviously, I think the metaphor really fits their story, because there will always be winged seraphs shitting on their relationship.
> 
> Also, this will possibly have a second part, but I'm not sure. This was kind of self-indulgent... I woke up some day hopelessly romantic and I needed to exorcise the feeling, so, yeah.


	3. small weird love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He doesn’t know how to love without hurting—he doesn’t know whether or not what he feels could be called love.”
> 
> Loki wishes to unmake Thor, and he has his brother’s consent.

When he was younger, Laufey said that they shouldn’t have had him. Years later, when he overheard a conversation, he realized what his father had meant. They shouldn’t have had Loki because everything that led to his birth had been a mistake, thus, so would he.

They’re right. He supposes that not everyone should be allowed to have children, or be born. Some people should have their choices taken away from them, as it happens to the male black widows. Unheard prayers, death.

His hands are bloodied, soiling blond, soft hair; fists tightened so firmly it hurt, both him and the man under him. He believes that maybe it’d be best if he hadn’t been born at all.

He doesn’t know how to love without hurting—he doesn’t know whether or not what he feels could be called love. He needs it like a flower needs the sun. It’s the oxygen that feeds his lungs, his cells, it’s the breath of life that God breathed into him.

His beautiful, golden, unblemished brother is lying under him, bleeding, widened eyes staring up at Loki as he hurts him further. As he pierces his skin with a blade that cuts too deep, too painful. Sharply sliding and penetrating further.

He feels… He doesn’t feel like God. Not the loving, magnanimous, forgiving God. He feels like Lucifer. Powerful, demanding, unforgiving. Loki feels beautiful and perfect above his submissive Thor. His. Everything he wants is his. He is the Morning Star, roaming the sky in all its grandness.

Loki slithers his other hand across the marked chest and closes his digits around Thor’s throat. He feels his brother breathing in deeply, waiting for the oxygen deprivation that he knows Loki’s hand will cause, but that’s not what he intends to do now. Loki senses Thor’s pulse in the tip of his fingers, heart beating fast, too fast, and feels powerful.

He’s corrupted. And Loki would die gladly corrupting his glorious, unbroken brother. He wants to take away the pureness, the forgiving nature, the good thoughts. He wants to destroy Thor, so they will be the same. They will share a soul, a bond.

“Loki.” He shivers. Blue eyes looking up at him, searching, pleading.

Loki wonders if Thor thinks he has finally lost it. They don’t use a safe word, never did. Maybe because he trusts his little brother, or because he isn’t scared of anything. But Loki knows the truth, even though Thor will never say it. Loki wants to get to the core of his unblemished, kind, perfect brother. He needs to hurt him, push him to the edge, make him doubt himself, hate himself. To reach his core, Loki needs to unmake Thor.

And Thor will let him.

 


	4. your eyes betray what burns inside you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Loki holds Thor close to his body so they won’t look into each other’s eyes, they won’t stare and see what the other is feeling."
> 
> Loki never allows Thor to truly see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Commoventi](http://commoventi.tumblr.com/) is _also_ the one at fault for this.

When Thor leans in to kiss his brother, Loki turns his face sideways and buries his nose in the pillow.

Loki never allows Thor to kiss him. He never allows anyone to touch him, to show him affection. He doesn’t like the neck-holding, the brief touches Thor cannot seem to stop himself from doing.

Their friends call Loki cold-hearted. They never say a word in reply. But when the brothers are alone, Loki always says he couldn’t care less, while Thor only smirks, because his brother is everything but cold-hearted. Loki is warm underneath him, warm and compliant. He burns and takes what he wants.

Thor buries his face in Loki’s neck and bites. He hears his brother gasp and feels cold hands coming up to his shoulder. He murmurs, “Loki” against pale skin and sucks at the spot. He slides his tongue wetly against the bruised flesh to soothe it.

Thor wants to say sorry for many things he has done, but mostly he wants to show Loki why he is sorry and why he loves him. He wants his brother to let himself be touched and not only by Thor or not only in this way. In a way that will make him feel hurting by the morning.

Loki urges him on. He undulates his hips and arches his back, exposing his throat. He taunts Thor; claws his broad back with blunt nails and bites his shoulder until Thor is hissing from the pain.

Until Thor gives in and fucks Loki the way his brother wants.

He doesn’t want love or promises. No kisses, no soft caresses, no nothings. Loki holds Thor close to his body so they won’t look into each other’s eyes, they won’t stare and see what the other is feeling.

Loki holds Thor so close it’s hard to breathe. He doesn’t want to look at his brother and see all that love and adulation. He can’t bear to see it, to feel it.

He can’t bear to let Thor see deep into himself, either. He’s scared of what he’ll see in there, of losing his brother, but mostly of being seen bare; exposed, with all his defenses down.

Loki shudders every time he thinks about this, because he wants his brother to look at him. Truly see him and forgive him and keep loving him, as if Loki didn’t have a marred soul.

But he cannot let himself go.

Every time he tightens his arms around Thor and bites his bottom lip, face screwed in pleasure as he tries to hold on to his brother, Loki feels as if letting go is a weakness he can’t afford to have. They moan into each other’s skin and Loki clenches golden locks in his hand when the soft kisses under his jaw make his stomach flutter.

“Stop,” he says, and the way he utters the word is like a plea.

He pulls at his brother’s hair, but Thor doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting and kissing his jaw and touching him everywhere, while Loki claws at his skin and arches his neck and tries to repress his moans.

Thor slithers his hand across his brother’s body and raises his leg. He can thrust deeper now; he can feel Loki falling apart, crying out whenever he stimulates his prostate. The words are on the tip of his tongue, wanting to spill, but he swallows them down like he’s used to.

Loki utters a choked groan when he comes, body going tense and rigid before becoming pliant under Thor’s weight. His brother’s heart is throbbing against his chest and Thor can hear it and feel it in his flesh.

 _It’s not cold_ , he wants to say, but he’s coming inside Loki and it feels overwhelming, and all of the words that were threatening to spill from his mouth disappear from his mind.

Until he regains his breath and shifts his position, supporting his weight on his elbows. He looks down on his brother, and Loki chooses that moment to open his eyes and look up at him.

“What,” he asks, but Thor can only stare and stroke his dark locks. Loki purses his lips and barks, “ _What?_ ”

Thor drops his head and plants a kiss on Loki’s collarbone. Against pale skin he murmurs, “But now the sound of love is out of tune.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remember staring at the gif of her art, because Leslie decided to take screen shots of the different phases of her drawing, and seeing it all come alive.


	5. bad kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They’ve been dancing to the same song for so long it feels like an eternal battle."
> 
> After Thor visits Loki in his cell, he helps him bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say, _screw canon, man! ___
> 
> _  
> _Also, this is for[Rie](http://tricksy.tumblr.com/), who's a sweetheart and writes the most inspiring tags of all._  
> _

The walk to the baths is silent and careful; the sound of their footsteps is too loud in the halls and the echoes seem to travel through the castle. It makes them feel self-conscious, furtive. There’s no time for grief now, Thor reminds himself over and over as he quickens the pace, they have treason to commit.

“ _Hurry up_.” He urges when Loki only stares at him after they arrive in the bath chamber. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

He wants to give his brother privacy, but Thor knows Loki can’t be trusted. He thinks, _I’ve learned my lesson, I’m not his brother anymore,_ but the ache in his heart says otherwise.

The smile Loki gives is full of malice, but it lacks strength, will. “You’ve changed.”

“Just as much as you have?”

Loki snorts quietly, turns away. “Aye. Just as much.”

Thor sighs. He realizes that they’ve been dancing to the same song for so long it feels like an eternal battle. He knows his failure in recognizing the wars they’ve been in led to this, to Loki’s madness, to the unmoving point in time where the distance between them seems irrevocable.

He blames himself, blames his father. Blames Loki, for letting go.

Thor closes his eyes as Loki starts to undress, slowly slipping his clothing off without the grace he always displays. He tries to avert his eyes, but his brother’s pale body is a magnet that dangerously attracts Thor. He looks down at his hands and thinks himself hopeless.

They don’t talk; there’s nothing to be said. He thinks of Frigga’s funeral, he thinks of Loki, receiving the word from a common guard, and his fists shake. He tightens the hold until his fingernails draw blood, and remembers that pain is a comfort, a welcoming friend when life seems harsh.

All of a sudden, Loki makes a breathy sound and Thor looks up, sees his brother trembling, hands shaking so much he gives up on cleansing his hair. He drops his arms and slouches forwards. Thor hears the wistful, broken, little sound he makes, and all at once he remembers the time Loki fell. The look on his face, the raw expression of hurt, the tears, the disappointment. His own desperate pleas.

And then…

Nothing.

Thor shakes his head and stands on unsteady legs; his weight seems impossibly unbearable now as he walks towards his brother, dragging his feet across the floor until he reaches the edge of the pool, where Loki leans against.

He hates the fact that no matter what happens, he’s helpless when it comes to his brother. He knows that this Loki, the one who let go, the one who tried to enslave an entire race, isn’t his brother anymore, can’t be. And yet.

And yet, he thinks, _I can see it in his eyes._ He’s still there, _somewhere_ , Thor only has to swim deeper, faster and he can rescue him, Loki is just there, waiting for him, trusting Thor to bring him back, to bring him home.

Sometimes he dreams of his little brother, short hair and bright eyes, his mischievous smile ever present. He dreams of a time that has ceased to exist, bound to never happen again. It’s dead now, it can’t come back. It’s all buried in the past.

Then, Loki senses Thor’s presence and stills, lowers his head until his chin almost touches his chest, and says nothing. They say nothing, and Thor thinks that’s the problem. They never do.

He kneels behind him and holds his brother’s wrists when pale hands rise to work on dark hair again. He guides them down, slowly, until both their hands are underwater, Loki’s fingers spread open on top of his thighs until they slowly form a loose fist.

Thor doesn’t linger; he takes the flask from the stone floor and pours the pearly-white shampoo into his palm. It smells sweet and fresh, the scent of his brother. He breathes in and out, before working on sweat-and-blood sodden curls.

He does it in silence, languidly cleansing the dark locks with care, rubbing his hairline, the back of his neck and behind his ears, massaging Loki’s scalp until Loki’s head droops a little, and Thor realizes what he was doing, how affectionate he seemed. He coughs to hide his embarrassment.

He takes the small basin and sinks it in the water, but Loki interrupts him.

“I can take it from here,” he says, and if he sounds sleepy, Thor pretends not to notice.

He ignores the words, but old memories flash across his mind, and he remembers all the times Loki’s done the same, centuries ago, countless times. After hunts and wars.

But he doesn’t do it for the sake of old times. Thor doesn’t know why he does.

He pours water down his brother’s head, careful of his eyes, and washes the suds away, carding the locks with his fingers until they look smooth and kempt, and the dark hair completely cleansed.

Thor stays; he breathes in his brother’s scent, which evokes so many memories that overwhelm him, making Thor close his eyes as his heart starts beating faster, painfully against his ribcage, and with a pang in his core he thinks himself terribly lost, even though a quiet voice in his head says he should be used to this feeling by now.

Then, Loki turns, but it’s not enough to look at Thor. “Brother,” and Loki swallows. “Tell me. Did she...” he trails off, unable to finish.

Thor closes his hands in clenched fists again, his palms hurt but it’s nothing compared to the ache in his heart, in his soul. He feels desperate, like drowning but never dying.

“I—” he chokes, blinking the tears away. “I don’t—Loki, I don’t—”

Thor sucks in a harsh breath; he brings his hand to his mouth and turns away, feeling hot tears stream down his cheeks, burning a path on his skin. He doubles over, the floor cold and unforgiving against his skin, and it should feel soothing, the coolness, but it doesn’t, it feels unrelenting instead, like his mind. Cold and numb, full of guilt.

He knows he’s sobbing, and he feels ashamed for it, but he can’t stop, not even when thin arms envelop his upper body. Thor tries to push Loki away, but he doesn’t relent, only tightens his hold.

He pleads, begs Loki to stop, says, _You only make it worse_ , and he does, because Frigga would’ve wanted Loki there, to see the funeral, to bid farewell to her. She wouldn’t stand for the way Loki was notified of her death.

It feels like a betrayal, and Thor can’t stand it.

“Get _off_ me,” he growls, pushing him away. He stands up on shaky limbs and paces the room, a restless, caged animal trying to free itself from the confining grates. “You don’t get to… you—” he shakes his head, cringing.

“Brother,” Loki says, but Thor’s head snaps in his direction.

“No.” He laughs. “Don’t call me brother, not now.”

He sees the moment a shadow clouds his brother’s expression, and turns his back on him. He hears Loki’s small, _Very well_ , but remains in place, facing the wall instead of his brother's face.

Thor tries to think of a time in which they weren’t part of each other’s life, although he already knows it’s futile. Except now he can see with a new clarity; surrender may not be in his nature, but this doesn’t mean the path he follows has more victories than failures.

He fears he will always fail Loki. Fears they will never be like they were before, no matter how hard he tries, how well he fights, Thor fears this is an already lost battle.

“Thor,” Loki says in a murmur. “I’m sorry. I—” He pauses for a long time and then sighs, laughs weakly. “I fear I’m tongue-tied.”

He snorts, slowly shakes his head in denial. “Hope you enjoy the feeling.”

“Not so much,” he murmurs, almost sadly, and they fall into silence.

The rustling of clothing fills the room and when Thor believes Loki has already changed into new clothes, he turns and finds him wearing dark green tunic and black leather trousers; hair falling in loose curls and a soft smile gracing his face. Loki steps forwards until they’re nose to nose, and Thor looks away, tries to withdraw when Loki grasps his hand.

“ _No_ , _please_ ,” he pleads, tightening the hold. “Look at me.”

He draws in a breath and closes his eyes.

“Look at me, brother,” he says in a small voice. “Please.”

And Thor does. He worries his bottom lip, clenches his teeth and stares at green eyes.

“I promise you. Whatever it takes, we’ll revenger her.”

He glances at their linked hands and feels his tongue heavy in his mouth, lungs incapable of drawing a breath. Thor looks up and watches his brother with intent.

Loki didn’t say _I_ , he said _we,_ and the way he spoke warmed his core. He feels naïve and ingenuous for feeling hopeful, for thinking that Loki _means_ it, that he acknowledges Thor’s pain as much as his own. For thinking that his brother is not so far away now, that he himself is getting closer, reaching the bottom of whatever place his little brother is buried, imprisoned in his own jealousy and self-hatred.

“Aye,” he mumbles, glancing away. He’s scared of looking too deeply, gazing for too long and be betrayed again. “We will.”

And as he stares at their joined hands, Thor knows he’s scared of the abyss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to apologize for this unbeta'ed fic, since I'm only posting this because it's for someone... I usually like how my fics turn out, but this was a disaster, maybe because it brings bad memories, idk, I just know that I'm sorry. It's the second time I try to write something for someone and it turns out like shit, gomen •╭╮• *cries*


	6. running if you call my name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I buy you a drink?”  
> “No,” he said; index finger lightly resting on the rim of his empty glass. “But you can take me home.”
> 
> Loki doesn't let Thor spend the night. Except when he does. Unintentionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what happened. Gomen.

The apartment has a minimalist decoration, few but expensive furnishings, neat, white walls, wide windows and not a single souvenir. Nothing is out of place, and even though Loki’s house looks stunning, it gives Thor the impression that it’s a dead lodging, there’s nothing of Loki there. It’s just like a photograph of a nice room in a home decor catalogue.

It’s his third night there when he notices a picture frame hidden underneath the lampshade. Thor frowns but dismiss the strangeness as being part of Loki’s quirks, although it doesn’t stop him from lifting the desk lamp and holding the photograph between his fingers. The boy staring back at him with a grin full of teeth is clearly Loki, with green eyes and rosy cheeks, and he can see resemblance enough between the kid and the couple behind him to realize that they’re his parents.

 _A beautiful family_ , he thinks, stroking his index finger across the glass.

“What are you doing?”

Thor turns and watches as Loki schools his face into a blank mask. He walks towards him, holding the picture frame in his hand and stares at it for a brief moment before looking up.

“What were you doing?”

“Why did you put this under the lampshade? It’s a nice photograph.”

“Mm.” He looks down at the picture and then snatches it away. “Didn’t realize it was there.” Loki says dismissively. He opens the drawer, tosses the frame inside and shuts it again.

 

* * *

 

Thor doesn’t mind the sex. He also doesn’t mind the fact that Loki’s words contradict his actions all the time. He enjoys it, smiles whenever Loki says he doesn’t need his cock but rides him afterwards. “You’re pretty average.” He’ll growl, watching Thor’s knowing smirk, “I could get something better if I wanted. A bigger dick.” And Thor will make sure to show him he’s good enough.

Better, actually.

 

* * *

 

Thor found Loki in a club.

He was used to attracting people’s attention wherever he went, but in that specific time he found it impossible to ignore the heavy weight of someone’s eyes at his back, following his every move. Scanning the room, he found him. A well-cut suit, sharp cheek-bones and a hungry look.

“Hey,” he said, sitting beside him on the bar stool.

The man stared at him, looking Thor up and down. “Mm.” He drawed a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, turning his head sideways to exhale smoke. “What’s your name?”

“Thor. Yours?”

He smiled, a corner of his lips rising and showing the slight indentation in his cheeks. “Loki.”

 _Loki_ , he mouths the word. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No,” he said; index finger lightly resting on the rim of his empty glass. “But you can take me home.”

Thor raised an eyebrow at him. Loki lifted the cigarette to his mouth and breathed in, slowly breathing out the pearly-white smoke. He watched as thin lips closed around the cigarette filter, as the fire shone brighter, as sharp green eyes stared at him with a suggestive glint.

“Straightforward, aren’t you?”

“I know what I want and I despise wasting time.”

“What else do you despise?”

“Small talk.”

Thor’s short laugh was barely audible over the loud music, but Loki’s intent stare didn’t miss the amused smile.

“Such a friendly personality. I think I like you,” he replied, and now it was Loki who lifted a brow.

He looked down at his watch and then up at Thor. “So?”

 

* * *

 

Loki never allows him to spend the night.

They fuck as many times as they can. sometimes it’s just once, usually when Loki’s body feels tense under his ministrations, taking a lot longer to finally relax. Loki will snap and rush, either fuck Thor as hard as he can or make Thor fuck him as though it’s a punishment.

But more often than not, they fuck throughout the night, and it doesn’t matter how late it is, Loki will stand and get out of the room, which will smell of sweat and sex, and walk into the bathroom to wash himself. The sound of water hitting the floor is comforting for a while, but soon Loki is a looming presence, saying, “You can take a shower now.”

Thor knew that meant he wasn’t welcomed to stay, to spend the time. He respected Loki and also felt somewhat intimidated by him, so he never really tried to persuade the man into letting him stay. Although there was one time Thor swore he would exhaust the man to the point of him not being able to open his eyes afterwards. It didn’t work out in the end, although Loki’s gait was slow and unsteady with a bit of a limp as he walked away from the bedroom. The other time he closed his eyes and pretended to have fallen asleep, and he actually _did_ fall asleep, but was woken up in a brusque manner and told to go take a shower.

Thor knew a lost battle when he saw one, so he stopped trying, but it would never hurt to try and fuck Loki so hard he wouldn’t have the strength to send him home.

 

* * *

 

It’s one of those time where Loki is restless and demanding, muscles hard and tense under pale skin that Thor finally gets what he’s been craving.

Loki calls him and doesn’t waste time with niceties or foreplay. He gets Thor hard and slick enough to ride him, a pained expression screwing his face while his muscles ripple under his skin. Loki is hot and tight around him, and Thor knows it must hurt, but under his heavy gaze, Thor sees hunger and want, a degree of desperation in the way he closes his eyes and bares his throat.

He does the only thing he can think of doing, he grips Loki’s hips and starts thrusting in rhythm with him. It soon becomes difficult because there’s no rhythm to be followed, just hard, unsteady thrusts that leaves Thor breathless. But then, Loki huffs. He groans a displeased sound and leans forward.

“Have you been fucked lately?”

Thor rocks his hips and a breathy moan escapes his lips, but Loki’s hand is soon on his throat, startling him.

“Have you taken a cock up your ass as of late, Thor?” He asks, a condescending tone in his voice.

“Uh,” he mumbles, blinking. Thor was _so_ close. “I… Sort of. I finger myself.”

Loki’s green eyes narrow to slits, and then he’s lifting his hips until Thor isn’t inside anymore.

“Turn,” he says. “On your knees.”

He fucks him then. It hurts, but Thor is so aroused he can’t think straight and focus on anything but the long, erratic thrusts that make his skin feel tight. It’s meant to hurt, to make their throats raw from screaming, it’s meant to make the both of them forget everything but their own pleasure.

And Thor can more than take it.

 

* * *

 

Conscience leisurely slips into his mind, but Thor doesn’t open his eyes. Instead, he revels in the soft touch of long fingers stroking his hair, brushing the locks with care and deliberation until he realizes that could only be Loki. He relaxes his face again and pretends he’s still asleep, but the hand retreats, and then there’s a moment of silence.

“Are you awake?” he mumbles, voice tinged with slumber.

Thor lies unmoving, breathes in and out rhythmically. He wants to turn around and hide his face, to scratch an itch on his nose, on his jaw, on his arm, and all at once Thor feels overly uncomfortable in his own skin.

“Oaf,” Loki murmurs, and the weight of his hand is back on Thor’s head, stroking his hair.

Thor can’t help but nudge closer.

 

* * *

 

Loki is in the kitchen with a cup of coffee between his hands when Thor finds him, now showered and with his teeth brushed.

“You actually let me stay.” He smiles, but it’s more of a smirk because Thor can’t help it.

“Your ugly face wouldn’t wake up,” he says, devoid of emotion, and turns his back on him.

“I remember you passing out, though.”

“How _dare_ you, I would never!” Loki shoots a furious look at him, and Thor sees the blush high in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He wants to hold Loki in his arms, but thinks the gesture wouldn’t be quite welcomed. “I was only joking.”

“Fuck you,” he snarls. “And get the fuck out.”

“But I’m _hungry_.”

Loki stares at him disbelieving, with an eyebrow raised, and snorts. “What? You’re a whore now? I have to give you something after I fuck you?”

“I could pretty well be a whore with the way you treat me,” he mumbles.

He laughs, actually amused. “Oh, please. If you’re discontent, you’ll find the door in the same place as always. Just don't let it hit you on the way out.”

“Maybe I will go,” he says, closing the distance between them until he’s looming over Loki, so close he can see his reflection in green irises.

He tips his head back and stares unflinchingly at Thor. “Then go.”

“I will.”

“Do you want me to open the door for you?”

“Yeah. Maybe I want that.”

And then, they’re crushing their mouths together.

 

* * *

 

Thor wakes up feeling reinvigorated, which is a rarity considering that he always manage to wake up as if he hadn’t slept at all. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and looks up. Loki is there, at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and a scowl contorting his face. Thor grins, mumbles a sleepy, _Hey_ , then pulls the blanket closer to his chin and curls up.

Loki’s scowl deepens. He hauls the blanket away and without preamble, asks, “ _Why_ are you still here?”

“I fell asleep.” Thor shrugs, unbothered by the fact that he lies naked under the sudden, hungry weight of Loki’s gaze.

Loki shakes his head, looks up and stares at him with his eyebrows arched.

“You fell asleep,” he repeats. “You took a shower and _fell asleep_ in my bed.”

Thor shrugs again. He left the bathroom the other night and found Loki already sleeping on his stomach, a thin sheet covering his legs and buttocks. He knew he should go home, but the door to Loki’s house would remain unlocked until he woke up, which was quite dangerous in his opinion, and besides, Thor didn’t really want to go.

“I want you out,” he says, but it lacks conviction, and Loki seems to be unable to stop himself from looking down Thor’s body.

He stands and closes the distance between them, stopping at arm’s length.

“I was hoping I could eat something.”

“There’s nothing here for you to eat.”

Thor laughs without meaning to. He smirks and says, “I can think of something else that I could eat,” and he mouths the word _Out_.

It’s surprising the blush that creeps along Loki’s cheek, and for a moment Thor is taken aback.

“Fuck you,” he stammers and turns.

 

Later, when Thor is licking at Loki’s puckered entrance, watching as he arches his neck and moans, he leans back and says, “You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”

Loki inhales and stares at Thor until he makes sense of what he’s just said.

“ _No_.”

"I bet you have."

" _Shut up_." He gasps.

Thor smiles and trails kisses across his buttocks. He closes his mouth over Loki’s hole and hums.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated before, I profusely apologize. This was supposed to have an actual ending, but halfway through writing this I was like, what on earth lmao this sucks, not gonna finish this, so yeah. That's it. I just really wanted to deem this compilation a complete work. I feel bad because the last work is gonna be this shit. I might cry. Where's the alcohol, waiter?
> 
> Also, I'm completely aware that I might come off as those writers who think they're shit and are loud about it, so. I'm sorry again. It's unbecoming, I know. I just really don't feel any good at the moment. [breaks down crying]


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